My Morning After
by cdawn1022
Summary: Oneshot - how it all started. The morning after Perry's divorce party, as referenced in Chapter 4 of my story, My Coma.


My eyes opened and I blinked in the sunlight. Sunlight... what time was it? My eyes focused through the dull pain in my head onto the nightstand clock. 9:28 in the morning. I was way past my usual breakfast time - definitely due for some Froot Loops. I sat up slowly, trying to avoid a head rush. I must've been pretty wasted; I could've slept for hours if it weren't for the light flooding the room. I just had to get up carefully and be really quiet to avoid waking Dr. Cox, sleeping next to me-

Oh my God.

Oh... my... God.

I stood up slowly and whipped around as soon as I was no longer touching the bed. He was sleeping on his stomach, looking uncharacteristically childlike. All I could remember of the night before was bits and pieces, but we definitely had sex. A few times. He's going to kill me.

I frantically dug for my T-shirt and jeans in the pile of blankets and clothes on the floor. I pulled them on as quickly as I could, keeping an eye on Dr. Cox. He'd always been a light sleeper when he took naps at the hospital. I thanked my lucky stars that he didn't stir as I slipped out the door.

Okay, time to take stock of the situation. I knew Jordan had Jack at her place, so that wasn't an issue. Dr. Cox was sound asleep and I was sure he wouldn't notice if I took a snack from his kitchen. We both had the day off today, so I didn't have to worry about work. All I had to do was pretend that nothing happened. And it really _was_ nothing, nothing that needed to be discussed or addressed or acknowledged. He could go right back to the annoyance and the hostility and I could go back to pretending it didn't kill me inside. Totally normal.

I opened up a few cabinets, searching for a granola bar or something like that to tide me over. He clearly ordered a lot of takeout - there wasn't much in the way of substantial food and the gas stove looked like new. Desperately, hoping I wouldn't have to get all the way home before I could get something in my stomach, I opened the final cupboard. Pancake mix. With chocolate chips.

Suddenly, there was nothing I wanted more in the entire world than a pancake. I would have risked death for that pancake.

I darted to the bedroom door and closed it. I'd just make some pancakes, eat one, and leave the rest as a peace offering. I'd brought my pancakes into work once and he'd loved them. Not that he would ever admit it. I gathered the ingredients and mixed them as fast as possible, trying not to think that I clearly had a death wish. I found a frying pan that had seen better days and greased it up. I turned the dial on the stove and I definitely didn't jump a little when the flame appeared. I poured some batter into the pan and dug around his mess of a silverware drawer for a spatula. I waited exactly two minutes and thirteen seconds, then flipped the pancake. Perfect golden brown. I was almost up to my perfect number again when I noticed the bedroom door was open.

Dr. Cox was standing there, staring at me. I couldn't decipher his poker face. Couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't tear my eyes from his because I knew somehow that this was not a staring contest I could lose. It must have been for thirty seconds that we stood there, mentally daring each other to make the first move. I knew my pancake was cooking too long, but I was still frozen. Finally he cleared his throat.

"Say, Newbie, I think you're burning there," he said without a hint of emotion.

And just like that, I was released from my paralysis - though I still couldn't direct my gaze somewhere else, _anywhere_ else. I robotically scooped up the pancake and placed it carefully on the plate. Hesitantly, I pushed it across the counter toward him. He forfeited our little staring contest to look down at the plate. Something in his expression changed just before his head snapped back up at me.

"Right then. Did you grab the paper?" he asked. As if everything was totally normal.

"N-no, I," I stuttered. "I was hungry," I finished lamely.

He sauntered over to the front door, pulled it open, and took the paper from the doormat. He let it slam shut behind him as he strolled back to the kitchen and hopped on a barstool at the counter. I silently watched him go directly to the sports page. His eyes traveled slowly back to me.

"I'm not going to kill you or anything. Scout's honor," he promised.

_Your calmness suggests otherwise._ "I, uh. I should go."

He stared back at his paper, seemingly concentrating very hard. I was almost at the door when I heard something I never thought I'd hear.

"Wait," Dr. Cox's voice called after me. A little too loud and a little too desperate to really be him. I spun on the spot, but his back was still turned.

"What?" I asked incredulously.

"You... were making me breakfast," he said casually. "Normally I'd prefer you cooking me dinner, but I guess a meal after the fact counts."

I stared in disbelief. Not only did he want me to stay, but he was making jokes about our... night!

"You want me to stay," I repeated, testing the sentence. It felt weird on my tongue. At last, he turned around to face me.

"Do I really have to go through this? Just get back here and finish the damn pancakes."

Unwilling to defy a direct order, I obeyed. The batch was finished in silence; whether it was awkward or not, I couldn't tell. The only noise either of us made was Dr. Cox's grunt of appreciation when he took the first bite. Suddenly, he slammed his fork down.

"For God's sake, I know you want to say something. Just say it." If I didn't know better, I'd have thought he looked a little nervous.

"Dr. Cox-"

"I think we're a little past 'Dr. Cox,' don't you agree?" he interrupted.

"...Perry," I started. He nodded. "I won't tell. I promise. We can just forget all about it."

"That's what you want?" he asked, not meeting my eyes. Relieved I wasn't going to latch on to this, or worse, hang it over his head.

"That's what _you_ want," I answered matter-of-factly. Never mind that I was avoiding the question.

"Be honest with me," he said seriously. "Now." This was confusing.

"I mean, it's not like this could ever _be_ something," I pressed. Was he trying to yank a confession out of me? Did he suspect?

"It already _is_ something, dammit!" Right before my eyes, he exploded. I'd seen him explode many times, mostly out of anger or frustration. I'd never seen desperation.

"Right," I agreed. "But we can just erase it," I said placatingly, trying to diffuse the situation. If I could just get out of there it would be over. He marched around the counter to where I stood and planted a hand on both of my shoulders.

"Tell me," he insisted, "tell me right now that you're just going to forget this whole thing. Look me in the eyes and promise me that you _want_ to."

"I-" My eyes whirled up to meet his. "...I."

I couldn't do it. My hardened resolve melted away; the wall I'd built so carefully crumbled into dust. All that time I'd spent lying to him, lying to everyone else, lying to myself, just washed away and I was left with nothing. Nothing except the fact that I was in love with Perry Cox and there was not a damn thing I could do about it.

And suddenly, so quickly that I wasn't quite sure how I got there, I was kissing him. My arms snaked themselves around his neck and my chest pressed against his of its own accord. It wasn't until several seconds later that I regained my senses. And a moment after that I realized he was kissing me back.

I was kissing Dr. Cox and he was kissing me back.

The pure shock pulled my mouth away with a pop and I gaped at him. He'd gone to incredible lengths to mess with me before, but he definitely wouldn't drunkenly sleep with me, eat my pancakes, then kiss me passionately just to screw with my head.

"You," I breathed. "You were kissing me."

"Yes," he replied simply.

"You _slept_ with me. And - and you wanted me to stay." I hardly dared to put the puzzle together. This only happened in my wildest dreams, too unrealistic for even my fantasies.

"Uh-huh," he said patiently.

"Not possible," I whispered. He just rolled his eyes.

"I was hoping you'd never figure it out, really, but our little drunken escapade made me think that I might actually have a chance." His confession was the final piece.

"You love me back." It was more of a statement than a question. "And taking that into account, this is obviously a dream, so it won't do any damage if we have sex again, right?"

He responded by pinching me so hard that I yelped.

"Okay. Not a dream. That wasn't necessary."

"Seemed like it," he taunted.

"So what do we do now?" I asked nervously.

"Well, I'm guessing you'd like to be _boyfriends_ with flowers and cuddles and all that cutesy stuff, am I right?" he said. I studied the floor tiles.

"And you want arguments and name-calling?"

"Newbie," he said quietly. "That's a real specific kind of relationship there. I know you, and that is most definitely not your style. So this is me telling you now, this one time, that I'd be okay going a bit more... teddy bear." I couldn't believe it. Perry Cox was being sentimental. And I didn't even have witnesses.

We kissed. We kissed a lot that day.

All too soon, it was time to get back to the apartment so Turk and Carla wouldn't worry. I pulled my shirt back on and fixed my hair in the mirror by the door.

"So," I called. "Are we doing the thing where we don't tell people?"

"I re-heally don't think it would be a great idea. Do you?" he asked, making his way over to me.

"God, no," I agreed.

And then my new boyfriend Perry kissed me hard and promised he'd see me tomorrow.


End file.
